Running
by Bluejay141519
Summary: For Bubbly. I do not own Chicago PD or its characters. It wierd, I know, but that's just how I wrote it.


This guy is an idiot.

He actually thinks, in his drunk-up-the-ass state, he can outrun me. Me. A guy who ran across Chicago in one night. And finished with a six minute mile (long story). These guy, these stupid criminals always think they can outrun me.

I love it.

Lungs screwing, legs burning, my focus only on being faster, better, than the person in front of me.

Running takes you places. To, from. Away. You can escape, if you can run. You can live. Survive. If you can run.

Some people hate it. They say it's the best form of self-inflicted pain. I disagree. There are much worse ways to hurt yourself. They don't know pain. They could never know what it's like. They are my team. And they don't know me.

To them I appear strong. A soldier. I protect myself and them and I protect myself from them. Intelligence knows this. They know I am not myself to them, as they know little about me. I do this to protect them. My past is dangerous. If you don't know my past, you don't know me. This keeps them safe.

I think he knows. Olinski. He must. He's seen it before. Knows what it looks like. He must have some clue that I'm hiding something. Because he knows that every strong man has fears.

The sun. The water. The gun.

No one could escape him, no one.

Now no one will escape me.

Two miles. We have done two miles in 9 minutes. He is dying; I am free.

The team has long since fallen behind. We are required to be in shape,and I know everyone but voight can run fast. Apparently not fast enough.

We are next to the lake now. Erie. She is beautiful. She is cold. She is deadly.

The water. You cannot run in water. You cannot break free.

It is deserted. Empty. The pier is void of all life but mine and his. Us and her. The old man and the sea.

I am panicking now, I am afraid. I will stumble. I will fall. Down, down, into the sun. With the gun and the man standing over me.

If I go here, if I drown, no one will save me. I will not survive. I will fall.

I cannot fall, I will not. If I cannot save myself then I will not put myself into a position of needing to be saved.

"If you grit your teeth and show real determination, you'll always have a chance."

A lesson. From a friend. Her last gift to me. It has served me well. Gotten me through many a bad situation.

I never got to return the favor. She left before I could say thank you.

He finally stops. More like collapses. Face plants. A spectacular yard sale, where EVERYTHING was on sale. I raise my gun.

He stands, shaking and spits blood out of his mouth. Classy.

I yell. He replies. I do not understand what happens next. Because he jumps. At me. We scuffle, I am about to win, then I am nothing but fear.

The water. The water has me. It is grabbing me, pulling me under. A scream of terror starts in my gut, grows, only to lodge in my throat. I cannot think. I do not know. I just am.

Dying. Dying. That is what I am. I have stumbled. I have fallen. Now I will go.

Help me. That is what I yell. I scream it to the water, begging her to release me. I lose my air begging. But there is no one. The team is gone. I am alone with the gun and the man.

He holds me. Just like he did then, he holds me under the water, pressing me toward death. I see this now, it's not the water that holds me it is him.

Determination. I am determined not to die. But I am frozen, an alien filled only with panic and adrenaline.

"You'll always have a chance"

Chances. Risks and reward. Games. It was a game to him. He always won. The sun and the man. The gun. Always first place.

But this is not a race. He is not that man. The sun is behind the clouds. And I have the gun. No more games. I am determined to live. I will survive, I will.

As you fall while you are running you are scared. Adrenaline instantly courses through you, your body trying to avoid it, protect itself. Instincts. Preservation. You soon find that you now have injuries to contend with. But while still on adrenaline you find you can follow superhuman things. Your fastest mile. Half mile. Sprint. Your best. And that is me, now, as I find out I can do a pretty good half round house kick underwater.

The man, the lake, they let go of me. I see the surface. I want to move toward it. To breathe. But I am to weak, I am not strong. I am not what I appear to be.

"Real determination."

There is a ladder on the concrete wall, probably used for drainage services. Underwater I do not know it is but it has saved my life. I push off a rung. My head breaks the surface.

The air is thick and sweet and my lungs are sucking it down like alcoholic does to a bottle of scotch after a bad day. I must be on drugs to see what I am seeing.

But no, my team here, they are on the ladder of rebar, screwed into the wall. The pull me up, as I cough and choke on water that I must have sucked in at some point. They turn me on my side, helping my body expel the poisonous water that tried to end the life it holds so dear.

I am cold and shaking and half alive, but I do not care. I smile into the now cloudy sky. I have won now. I am in first place. I smile.

Because I am free.

I can run. 


End file.
